


Supernatural: Confession

by SilverDrake



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Godstiel: Cas as God, Season/Series 08-09 Hiatus, castiel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 16:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverDrake/pseuds/SilverDrake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is nowhere to be found and Dean Winchester is back to the church where he stopped the Third Trial. But someone was there before him, and now is waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Supernatural: Confession

Back to square one. More or less.  
Dean stands in front of the abandoned church, alone.  
There is no one to save this time, no enemy to stop, nothing. He just feels he needs to be there again, forse some reason. If only because it is the place where everything went, not as literally as usual, to hell.  
He enters the church with his head so immersed in thought that he needs a few seconds to register that there's somebody in front of him. A black middle-aged man wearing the worn and torn clothes of a priest. Cleaning up. And apparently not minding the stranger he just heard coming into such an isolated place.  
«Uhm... Evening, padre,» he says, one hand behind his back, on the gun.  
The man turns around and squares him up slowly. There is not much light in the waning sundown, and there are no candles or torches in the church, but it seems he is scanning Dean in every detail. A welcoming smile forms on his lips.  
«Good evening,» he answers {politely}.  
«You know,» Dean says as his eyes scan the room for any telltale sign, «I didn't really expect anyone to show up here, you know, in the middle of nothing.»  
«Well, my friend, there would be little point to come and set up a congregation otherwise, don't you think?»  
Before Dean can answer, the man continues.  
«Look, I know there ain't much going on around here at the moment, but I think that I can give this place a little visibility and bring some people together. A few locals, hopefully, and maybe the occasional traveller. After all, you don't need to have people trip on your doorstep to find you, nowadays.»  
Dean looks slightly embarrassed.  
«And you came... here? I mean, why this place... this one specifically?»  
«You may find it hard to believe,» the man chuckles a bit.  
«Try me.»  
«There was this thing happening a couple of weeks ago. Lights in the sky at night, and all the... Some kind of meteor storm, they say.»  
«Of course. That thing. Sure,» Dean comments, doing its best to avoid looking the man in the eye.  
«Well, I'm not sure that was exactly what they said. I'm a very simple person and I don't care that much. But,» the man says, as his tone change from {dismissive} to enthusiastic, «I know what I saw myself, and that was quite a thing,» he grins widely.  
«And... what would that be?»  
The man looks straight at Dean with a gleam in his eyes.  
«An angel! Descending somewhere nearby. If that isn't a sign, then what is, I wonder?»  
«Uhm... Can't argue with that,» Dean admits, clearing his throat.  
«You a believer?» asks the man. «'Cause you don't look like one, y'know.»  
«Wait, wait,» objects Dean, «what does that mean exactly? Is there a way one would look if he believes in angels and stuff? Like, a halo? Small badge on my jacket?»  
«You are right, sorry. I meant you don't feel like one. Like, the way you came in. You know, abandoned or not people usually walk in a church with a certain... demeanor.»  
«Demeanor. Really,» Dean looks at the man inquisitively, frowning.  
«You have to learn a few good words now and then if you want to preach,» the man says.  
«Sure, I should have guessed. You a preacher for a long time, then?»  
«No, not at all,» the man smiles in recollection. «It is a long story.»  
«You say?» Dean starts, but then stops.  
Something comes up to his mind and he slowly nods, smiling. Grinning, actually. He begins again to slowly pace around the man.  
«Let's do a little game, then, padre. You up for it?» he says as he studiously stare at him.  
«I... guess so?» the man says, big eyes wide open but slightly wary. «What game?»  
«You tell me your story, I tell you why you're better off away from this place. What do you think?»  
«Am I compelled to leave, after that?» he asks.  
Dean notices the man's eyes are not following him as much as looking around his figure. Most likely where he holds the gun, well covered but apparently not enough for the priest's watchful stare.  
«You can stay, if you really want. But believe me, you don't,» he says, giving his best salesman grin.  
«Do I get to ask questions?»  
«Sorry?» Dean stops, taken aback a bit.  
The man calmly lays the broom on a wall. Then takes one of a few old chairs from a corner, pulls it in the middle of the room and sits down, hands joined.  
«Well, you are saying that I will have to leave this place. And I quite like it, and I had some plans for it. So, y'know, you would have to give me a damn good reason to let it go, right?»  
«I guess.»  
«Then I'd like to be very sure we haven't skipped any detail, sort of, don't you think?»  
«Seems fair.»  
Dean goes to pick a chair for himself. That is when he notices for the first time that the church is actually much cleaner than he remembered it. He didn't see it entering, probably because of the light. It seems the man has been hard at work in the last few days.  
It's one of the windows, in particular. It has been repaired. A fresh new stained glass.There is not much detail to the picture, but it is familiar. Eeriely so. Worringly so.  
He drags the chair in front of the priest, turns it back to the man and sits, arms folded on the back. He looks deeply into the eyes of the priest, then points the thumb at the window, not saying a word.  
«Oh, that,» the man chuckles a bit. «It just happens that's the story.»  
«Good for you, I suppose. It's just that...»  
«What?»  
«Is that supposed to be...»  
«Oh, yes,» the man gives a wide smile. «That's God. Visiting us in modern times.»  
«Sure, yeah,» Dean tries to seem relieved. «It's just because he had this, like, y'know, very weird tunic.»  
«That's not a tunic, my friend,» the priest laughs.  
A long cold shiver runs through Dean's back.  
«And what would that be, then?»  
«A trenchcoat.»  
Fade to black.

***

Dean Winchester is sitting in an abandoned church with a black priest who appeared out of nowhere to take residence in the building for his future congregation. He does not know where this guy came out from, or why it is so important for him to do this in the church where the Third Trial was renounced. But more than anything else he does not understand why Castiel is imprinted on stained glass as God. He suspects a reason, but it makes him incredibly uneasy.  
He looks at the priest who is currently checking the window with a longing of sorts, as if it gives him inspiration, or nostalgia for a moment that was so precious to him.  
«What is it then?» Dean asks bluntly.  
«What is what?» the priest rebounds.  
«The story. You said he is the story, the... the why you are here now.»  
«Oh, yes, that.»  
The man miles again, closing his eyes for a moment as if savoring something. Dean is wary of all that smiling, but tries his best poker face and forces himself to seem curious; after all, he is, though not in the way the man expects.  
«It happened a few years ago,» the man begins, still loking at the window. «I was sitting hearing mass, and I remember my faith then had weakened considerably; I was going through the motions, so to speak.  
«I don't remember what our preacher said, specifically, but suddenly there was this man beside him, in a trenchcoat. And he spoke with righteous fury of a number of things, some I barely understand as his voice seemed to be crackling with electricity or something, like his form was about to break with energy. But it was a sight, my eyes felt like they were burning.»  
«Interesting,» Dean says as he takes mental notes.  
«Then it became scary, though,» the man says, and his voice is suddenly less confident. «He smited most of the people for both their sins and their thoughts. His fury was terrible to behold. It was hard and harsh and cold and intense  
«How did you survive?»  
«I don't know, honestly. His mind is inscrutable, after all, and even such a manifestation could have reasons and meanings I cannot grasp. But I know one thing: he really was God. I've never doubted that. And that was why I was inspired and, with time, I decided to come here and form a new congregation. A simple story, as you can see.»  
«Yes, sure, awesome» Dean answers, a touch of superiority in his voice. «But I think there are a couple of things you should know about your God.»  
«I took you were not a believer,» the priest says.  
«Define believing,» Dean says, grimly. «There are things you know to exist, and there are things you want to exist. I go for the first variety.»  
«Did that make you happy?» the man asks, to Dean's surprise.  
«Not a bit. But it taught me a lot.»  
«For example?»  
«Your so-called God, it was just a man. A very special man, maybe,» he says as his eyes betray a sadness, «but still a man. And that man died.»  
«Died?» the priest questions, with surprise and pain in his eys. «How?»  
«By trying to be God and not being up to it. But he made a lot of damage before he fell.»  
The man stares at Dean for a while, his eyes narrowing as if pointing at something far behind him. For an instant Dean is almost about to turn round and check, but he knows better. He still does not trust the man, and things are coming out of his mouth too easily, way too easily.  
«You seem angry,» the man says. «This man was your friend, maybe?»  
«In a way. In many ways. We go a long way back.»  
«With a God?» the man pushes on.  
«He was no God, I said.»  
«Because he died?»  
«Because he wasn't, dammit!»  
Dean springs up in frustration, looking away from the man. He breathes heavily for a few seconds, then he sits down again, staring at the priest coldly.  
«Look, if you really want to know I'll tell you. But you must accept that what I'm telling you is what actually happened. Stuff I saw, stuff I lived through. You get to question if you want to know more, not to doubt.»  
«You are asking me to have faith?» the man half-smiles, and Dean is not sure if in mockery or disbelief.  
«You can shove faith. You know, that's the first thing he said when I met him.»  
«Was he already, as you said, thinking of himself as a God?»  
«Hell, no. He was... I don't know anymore, honestly. Too many things changed too many times. It was just this wild ride and every time we thought it was over, but new shit started up...»  
«And your friend had something to do with this?»  
«Something? Everything. Damn him and all his damn friends. I tell you, if there's one thing worse than God, it's a god complex, and I've seen way too many.»  
The priest looks at him inquisitively for an instant.  
«Friends, you say? Who were they? Or better... what, I guess? Because it seems there is more to it than what you are saying.»  
«Well,» Dean takes a deep breaths, «let's see how you handle this. There are a lot of bad things around. Monsters, demons, crap you wouldn't even know how to define. I... we were a sort of exorcists, travelling exorcists fixing up all this. Then we meet the big mess-up in the sky: angels. Angels of the Lord himself, though we found no Lord to speak of. Too long to explain, so bear with me.  
«My friend was an angel. Maybe he still is, I don't know. I saw them fall, and he hasn't been back since, so who even knows if he's alive.»  
«You said he died years ago,» the priest asks, suspicious.  
«Some angels have this thing for not staying dead, what can I say? I guess when you get used to the ride you stop fussing over the finer details.»  
«So what is this angel did, beside posing as our Lord himself?»  
«Pretty much everything, padre. Killed a lot of his brothers, dealt with demons, with the King of Hell himself at that. Hurt my brother, made him go insane, freed beasts from the underworld.»  
«One would say he just barely missed starting the Apocalypse itself.»  
«That one he actually tried to avoid. But guess what?»  
«He died?»  
«Right,» Dean admits, somehow disheartened, as if recounting everything makes him weaker rather than relieved of a burden.  
«Is that what bothers you with your angel?» the priest asks.  
Dean looks uncomfortable, checking around the room nervously in search of an answer.  
«What do you mean?»  
«What you told me of him. Sounds like he tried a lot and tried too hard. Or that he was plain evil most of the time, but it sounds strange for an angel.»  
«You would not believe how many fierce assholes stand guard on Heaven, man. Well, stood.»  
«They all died?»  
«They all fell, in case you missed the memo,» Dean cuts, feeling his own voice get darker and harsh.  
«Yes, I see... But why are so angry about the failings of your angel friend?»  
Dean stares at him coldly, then resigns himself.  
«He pulled me out of Hell, of damnation.»  
«You... visited that place?» the priest still looks incredulous, but less and less as the revelations flow.  
«It... it was my own fault that I ended up there, and I will not tell you what I did there. But that guy showed up and pulled me out.»  
«Why?»  
«Orders from above. Then, of course, that turned to shit later as it turns out it was not for my own or anybody else's good. That's Heaven for you.»  
«And then you met him again as God?»  
«It's more complicated than that. We kept around each other, in a way, and things got hairier, and he betrayed us because he thought he could fix Heaven. Guess what? He couldn't, and we lost him.»  
«And you felt lost yourself.»  
«Yes,» Dean answers reluctantly.  
«You know why?»  
«I have an idea.»  
«He is your guardian angel.»  
«That I guessed.»  
«But do you really know what that means?»  
«What?»  
«He is bound to you, and you to him.»  
«If only that would be so easy.»  
The priest takes a deep breath.  
«You were damned, something that is not expected to end. And he was redemption. So, in a way, he is an aspect of you that you learned to feel and treasure, and everytime you lose your friend you feel like that part of you is moving aways from you, slipping. Be like one of us, earthbound and with darkness only to watch into. Unless he returns.»  
«I doubt it. All angels fell, and he's nowhere to be seen.»  
«You are angry at him because you think he left you alone?»  
«Didn't he?»  
«You see, my friend, it's not the job of an angel to carry you. Even a guardian angel. He gave you strength, he tried to be an example, he tried to be so much close to you that he became very human, in a way. So maybe it's time you leave that crutch and become your own guardian angel. A real guardian, not a warrior breaking at the edges constantly waiting for the day you die.»  
Dean looks surprised, his eyes thinning trying to focus on something he can't understand.  
«What happens to him, then?»  
«Well,» the priest says, «it's time his good brother steps in and raises him, for a change. And you, Dean, won't you come looking for my little brother?»  
The light suddenly hits his eyes, and the church is back to its older, dirty self. It is dawn, and not night, And a well-known face stands before him.  
«Gabriel?» he asks in this belief.

**Author's Note:**

> This brief story was supposed to have a very different development but in the dark of the night found a way of its own.  
> As such I'm not very satisfied by the end product, but it makes sense in a way, and it still conveys the core elements I had in mind: the dialogue/script effect (I toyed with making it in actual script format, just so you know why the narrative part is stripped down so much), the finale and the approach to the Dean & Castiel relationship.  
> Too bad I didn't managed to have the development I actually planned for, but as a first foray in the subject matter I guess it will have to do. And as usual I kind of butchered the finale, dialogue-wise; sooner or later I will get over this thing.


End file.
